


The Birthday Boy

by stilinski_wolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But Stiles & Derek had sex pre-fic when Stiles was underage, Happy Ending, It's Stiles' 18th birthday, M/M, Post season 3a, angst & fluff, hence the archive warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7671442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinski_wolf/pseuds/stilinski_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles isn't exactly in the best of moods at his 18th birthday party - mostly because of a certain brooding werewolf who wasn't there when Stiles woke up the morning after their first time (and Stiles' first time, period) together. </p><p>But then Stiles and Derek get some alone time to talk and they decide to take things slow, which Stiles couldn't be happier about. </p><p>Because as long as Stiles got to be with Derek, in whichever way Derek was comfortable with, Stiles was happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birthday Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to say that this was written sometime near the end of Season 3A (and I was still trying to make my own sense of the whole "werewolf age" thing? So I have some of that element in here, although since then I've just decided "fuck it" and just completely ignore that stupid "werewolf age" crap).

Stiles heard the sliding door open and he turned from where he’d been leaning his elbows against the railing of the porch to see Derek standing there, an unsure look on his face. “Um, hey…Lydia was looking for you. Thought I’d let you know.”

Stiles nodded his thanks to Derek, drowning the rest of the beer he’d been nursing and then setting it down on the railing. “Thanks.”

Without another word to Derek, Stiles brushed past him into his house, which was in full party mode with bodies everywhere, loud music blasting from the stereos in his living room.

Stiles’ dad had promised to be out of the house, according to Lydia, for Stiles’ big 18th birthday bash.

Stiles didn’t know most of the people here, he hadn’t been looking forward to his birthday anyway, he wasn’t happy, and this party sucked. But Lydia had planned it, had worked hard on it, and she was his best friend, so he could never tell her that. 

Stiles tried to ignore the feeling of Derek watching him as he walked away. 

He bumped into a few people in the crowd as he looked for Lydia, and they just told him to watch where he was going. Stiles tried not to roll his eyes.

It took him ten minutes to find Lydia, and in that time he ran into Scott who’d been dancing with Allison, and they’d both given him a hug and a kiss on the cheek respectively, then he’d ran into a few acquaintances who half-heartedly wished him a happy birthday, he saw Isaac dancing with some girl, he saw Danny and Ethan who looked like they were ready to find a room, and he ran into his one ex, who tried to get Stiles alone, to which Stiles firmly shot down. He didn’t need to go down that road again. 

Lydia herself was standing in the kitchen by what appeared to be Stiles’ cake. Why he had a cake at a party that didn’t even really seem to be for him, Stiles didn’t know. But he thought it was sweet of Lydia to do that for him, so when he caught up to her, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and a thank you.

“You’re welcome. Almost done with the candles, if you could just give me a lighter?” Lydia said distractedly as she put the last few candles - 18 total, of course - on the cake. 

“Are you really going to have this house full of people sing me happy birthday?” Stiles asked with a small smile. 

“No. I’m going to get the pack together and we’ll sing you happy birthday in the kitchen. No one will hear it over that music.” Lydia gave Stiles a distracted smile.

Stiles laughed softly. “Leave it to you to make my birthday both nice and crazy all at the same time.”

“It’s one of my special talents,” Lydia smirked as she went to look for a lighter. She’d been to Stiles’ house enough times to be able to find one herself. “Ah ha, here we are!”

As Lydia lit the candles, she looked up at Stiles. “So, are we going to talk about it?”

Stiles’ jaw clenched as his stomach felt like it dropped all the way to the floor. But then he lifted an eyebrow at Lydia and gave as good as he got. “Only if we talk about Jackson.”

Lydia pursed her lips, glaring at Stiles. “We’ll have to talk about it eventually, Stiles.”

“No we won’t,” Stiles said stubbornly, ignoring the withering stare she shot him.

“I’m getting the rest of the pack. Stay here, birthday boy,” Lydia said, walking past Stiles out of the kitchen.

Stiles sighed. He hadn’t wanted anything for his birthday. He just wanted to forget the shit show that has been his life for the past year and a half. He hadn’t wanted people yelling and chattering and laughing and dancing in his living room while others went upstairs to have sex in his room, not when most days he wondered how he was even still alive. 

He didn’t have much time to brood - a pastime better suited for Derek - before Lydia was storming back into the kitchen with Scott, Allison, Isaac, Danny, Ethan and Derek in tow.

Stiles’ eyes caught Derek’s before he looked away quickly, only to catch Lydia’s knowing look. Stiles glared at her.

“Okay, let’s do this before the candles go out,” Lydia said with a big smile, moving Stiles and everyone else around the counter to her liking. Stiles glared harder and gave her a significant look when she moved Derek to stand next to him. 

Derek cleared his throat awkwardly and the rest of the pack tried not to notice the tension hovering in the air. 

“Okay, on my count,” Lydia said with fake cheerfulness, her eyes landing on each pack member before she said, “One, two and three.”

Stiles cringed inwardly, waiting for the quiet, pathetic rendition of “Happy Birthday” about to be sung to him.

But they all sang it pretty loudly and cheerfully, all of them - except Derek - looking at Stiles and smiling. Stiles automatically smiled back, but had to fight to hold it when Derek’s hand brushed against his. 

Stiles’ hand twitched and he tried to subtly move it away. But he caught Derek’s side-eye out of the corner of his eye. Stiles tried to ignore him.

“Okay, blow out the candles!” Lydia said cheerfully, and Stiles gave her a friendly smirk before he moved forward and blew out all 18 of his candles. All his friends clapped and cheered, and Scott moved past Derek to give Stiles a hug and a “happy birthday, bro! Love you.”

“Love you, too, buddy.” And Stiles felt his first genuine smile form on his face that night. He knew he could always count on Scott to make him feel a little bit better. 

“All right, let’s eat cake, yum!” Scott said as he let go of Stiles and moved forward toward the knife, but Lydia slapped his hand in reprimand. 

“I’ll be doing the cutting, Scott, thank you.”

While Scott pouted and rubbed his hand, Lydia started to cut them cake. She gave Stiles the first and biggest piece, of course. 

“Thanks, Lyds. Really.” And his second genuine smile of the night was directed at Lydia. 

“You’re welcome.” And she gave him a hug, being mindful of the plate of cake in his hand, before she went back to cutting the cake for everyone else.

When she offered one to Derek, he declined and politely excused himself.

Stiles watched him leave, unable to keep his stare from wandering to Derek. And of course everyone noticed.

Before they could say anything to him, Stiles cleared his throat and excused himself as well. “I uh, have to go to the bathroom.”

“Sure you do,” Lydia said with raised eyebrows.

Stiles ignored her and made his escape.

And found Derek where Stiles had been before Derek had found him not ten minutes ago, leaning against the railing of the porch, his head bowed down. He was clad in a leather jacket with a white shirt underneath, and tight, dark jeans with black boots.

He perfected the image of bad boy, even if Stiles knew he was anything but. 

Stiles opened the the sliding door quietly, and knew Derek heard it even if he didn’t move an inch from his position against the railing.

Stiles walked up to stand next to Derek, plate filled with cake in one hand. He looked up at the sky, and waited for Derek to speak first, for once. 

“Happy Birthday,” Derek said quietly, fingers weaving in and out of each other as he clasped them together. 

Stiles cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

“Here’s hoping you have a better year than the last,” Derek tried to say lightly. It fell flat, to say the least.

Stiles snorted. “Hope it’s better than the last few years, to be honest.”

“Yeah, they haven’t been great years for anyone,” Derek said quietly.

Stiles looked down at his cake, tried to take a bite, found he couldn’t, and set it down on the railing. He let silence stretch between them before he spoke, his quiet voice heavy in the thick, warm night air. “Why did you leave? The morning after...well, after,” Stiles cleared his throat, looking to his right so he didn’t have to look at Derek, knowing he’d tensed immediately after those words were out of Stiles’ mouth.

“Stiles…” Derek said cautiously, moving to stand up fully, turning to Stiles, who couldn’t keep looking away, who couldn’t stop himself from turning to look at Derek and into his eyes. 

“It’s a simple question, Derek,” Stiles said calmly, even if his racing heart was anything but calm. 

“You’re…you were…seventeen. And I am…”

“What, too old for me?” Stiles scoffed. “You’re 24, Derek. In human years. It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” It was Derek’s turn to scoff. “I’m six years older than you, and older than that in…”

“Werewolf years?” Stiles smirked, let out a small laugh. To be honest, Stiles didn’t give a shit about werewolf years and that Derek was really 26 years old. That wasn’t really that bad, in the grand scheme of things. And Stiles was 18 now. Derek didn’t even have to worry about stupid state laws and shit like that. 

“Yes.” Derek sighed. “It just…it shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t even try to give me that bullshit, Derek. You were all for it when it was happening. You were happily fucking me into the mattress that night, and if you didn’t think it should have happened, then you would have stopped it. You know I would have stopped the moment you said no.”

“I know. And It isn’t that I didn’t want it to happen. I did. I very much did.” Derek gave a sardonic laugh. “I just shouldn’t have let it happen.”

“Why?” Stiles asked in frustration, ignoring the urge to pull his hair out.

“Because, Stiles,” Derek practically shouted. “Everyone I’ve ever been involved with has-” Derek cut himself off, swallowing thickly before continuing at a quieter volume. “-has either died or caused others to die. And it’s never me that dies. No, it’s them. It’s the people that I - that I care about that suffer from my idiocy, from never listening to that part of my mind telling me not to go there, to not get involved, to never get emotionally invested. But I do anyway and then someone dies. Someone always dies because of me.”

Stiles watched as Derek’s face crumpled and he closed his eyes as he brought his hands up to cover his eyes before bringing them up to run through is hair as a sign of frustration, of pain. Stiles swallowed past the lump in his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, well, I’m not them.”

Derek snapped his eyes up to Stiles, shock clear in his eyes.

“I’m not going to kill anyone, especially someone you care about, because I care about those people too, and I’ve run the risk of dying everyday, long before you and I were ever remotely involved. If I were somehow killed, it wouldn’t be you or because of you that I died. It would the supernatural shit that does it, or maybe it wouldn’t even be the supernatural. Maybe I could be driving and then get in a car wreck and just like that, it’s over for me. And it wouldn’t be your fault, Derek. You wouldn’t have been the thing to kill me. I’m not…I’m not Paige, Derek. Or Kate. Or Jennifer, for that matter.”

Derek was staring intently at Stiles now, not even blinking as Stiles talked.

“I’m Stiles, whose best friend is a werewolf and is just trying to survive high school. Literally. You know me. You’ve known me for almost two years. We’ve…we’ve been connected. Uh, literally.”

Derek snorted at that, shaking his head slightly as he let out a short laugh. 

“I like to think that by now you at least trust me,” Stiles said softly.

“I do trust you, Stiles. I do,” Derek said, looking at Stiles with pleading eyes. “I just don’t want you to die, because everyone around me dies.”

“I’ve been around you for almost two years, Derek, and I haven’t died.”

“Yet,” Derek said bitterly.

“Well yeah, everyone has to die eventually,” Stiles said, ignoring the roll of Derek’s eyes. “But I’m hoping that’s years and years from now, preferably when I’m old and shriveled and need help taking a shit.”

Derek let out a guffaw at that, and Stiles smiled softly, always loving when he got to hear Derek’s laugh. It was the best noise in the world to Stiles. And it was so rare that it filled Stiles’ chest with happiness, made his stomach clench as he tried not laugh as well, just so he wouldn’t miss that laugh.

“Why don’t we break the pattern, Derek? Why don’t we get together and show them all, just this once, that Derek Hale can have nice things. Let’s do it. Together. And fuck the odds, just fuck them. Because what’s the point of living if you don’t take risks?”

“There’s only so many risks someone can take before it hurts too much to try,” Derek said with tears in eyes, blinking rapidly to keep them at bay.

“Yeah, but what if this risk turns out being good in the end, being great?” Stiles asked hopefully. 

“But what if it doesn’t?” Derek asked as a tear slipped down his cheek. Stiles could see his resolve weakening, and knew that he would need to hear the right thing in order to be able to take that step with Stiles, in order to at least try and see where it goes.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Stiles said softly, moving forward and brushing that lone tear away with his thumb, watching Derek’s eyes close at his touch, his head tilting into Stiles’ hand. Stiles couldn’t help but smile. “And we can go slow. Even extremely slow. Snails pace. No sex. No kissing, even. Just dates.”

“Dates?” Derek asked, as if dates were a foreign concept to him. Which, they probably were.

“Yeah, you know. Going out to dinner, seeing a movie, going to the carnival. Something. Where we just, you know, talk. Hopefully have fun. And then give each other a polite kiss at the door at the end of the night.”

Stiles bit his lip, hoping, just hoping that Derek would say yes. Stiles just wanted Derek. He wanted more than just sex. He could wait for that. He’d waited seventeen years before he ever had sex, he could wait again for it. As long as he got to be with Derek, got to talk to Derek, got to hold his hand, got to call him “boyfriend” and be called “boyfriend” in return, got to kiss Derek, even if it was a soft, barely there kiss, got to make him laugh. Got to share everything with him. Got a life with him. 

“I just want you, Derek,” Stiles whispered into the space between them at Derek’s continued silence. “And we can go at your pace. I don’t care, as long as…as long we do it together.”

Derek let out a shaky breath, and then moved forward, surprising Stiles as he took Stiles’ lips in his, kissing him softly, slowly, causing Stiles’ pulse to beat wildly and for his skin to heat up. It was barely a kiss, but it caused Stiles to let out a shaky, unbalanced breath as Derek pulled back slowly, and Stiles followed him with his body, his hands coming up to rest lightly on Derek’s shoulders. “Oh boy." 

Derek let out a shaky laugh, and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Stiles’ and Stiles couldn’t stop the grin the spread across his face. God, if he didn’t know any better, Stiles would think he was in love with Derek Hale. 

That thought didn’t scare Stiles as much as it should have. 

"So. Slow,” Derek said, reaching and taking one of Stiles’ hands in his, threading their fingers together.

“Slow,” Stiles nodded in agreement.

“I can do that,” Derek said with a slow smile.

“Good. It’s me and you. Together.”

Derek’s smile widened and he leaned forward to give Stiles another small kiss. “Happy Birthday, Stiles.”

“Mmm, indeed,” Stiles grinned, throwing his arms around Derek’s shoulders as he hugged him tightly, hiding his grin in Derek’s shoulder. 

It certainly was a happy birthday now. 

And Stiles ignored Lydia’s happy smirk later on, but wondered if she knew exactly what she’d been doing when she’d planned Stiles’ birthday party.

Knowing Lydia, she probably did. 

He’d thank her later.


End file.
